Classic Poem

Sun, Moon, and Stars attest Thy matchless glory,
Thou mighty Ruler of the World Unseen;
Devout Astrologers of sacred story
Have loved to bask beneath their gorgeous sheen;
Have looked from them to Thee, and looking, raised
Their song to where the Godhead's essence lurks,
And with a hymn of deep thanksgiving praised
The greatness of Thy power and Thy works.

And how shall I, an atom, frail and weak,
Scan the blue ether with an eye of love,
Or in befitting accents sing or speak
Of those mysterious worlds that shine above?
But Thou hast planted deep within my breast
A love for all that's beautiful and bright,
From the red Morning's Sun-emblazoned crest,
To the pale Stars that celebrate the Night.

I love the storm at deepest midnight sweeping,
The gentle billow and the raging sea,
The vivid lightning, and the thunder, speaking
In mighty language, Thou Supreme! of Thee.
I love the plunging cataract, the rill
That, childlike, sparkles through the sunny plain,
The primal forest depths, convulsed or still,
'Neath the light zephyr's or dark tempest's reign.

And loving these, I turn my eyes above,
And there behold the wondrous mysteries
Which blameless men in every age have loved —
For where is aught exalts the mind like these?
By day and night, alike, behold the scene!
The King of Light upon his golden throne,
Night's silver-mantled and seductive Queen,
Encircled by the stars as with a zone!

The lofty Sun in mid-day greatness rolling,
Calmly pursuing his majestic way,
Is silently but powerfully extolling
His great Creator's glory day by day.
No clouds can wholly dim his brilliant light,
No eye can gaze upon his steady flame,
His course, from rosy morn to dewy night,
Is one unceasing Paean to Thy name.

But scarcely is his evening anthem ended,
When lo! the Moon walks blushing up the East,
Her first soft accents with his last have blended,
And thus their silent song has never ceased,
Since the Creator's Voice first bade them hold
Their course untiring through eternal space,
And with their voiceless eloquence unfold
His boundless power, excellence and grace.

Not less the Stars their gentle hymns are blending
With the impressive silence which the night
Upon her myriad tongues is ever sending
Throughout creation's trackless realms of light.
There's not a ray that cleaves yon ethery void,
But has a tongue to sound its Maker's praise,
There's not a drop in yon receding tide,
That does not answer to their voiceless lays.

Then how much more should gifted man proclaim
The greatness of God's overruling power,
When all His works do glorify his name
Eternally, through every fleeting hour?
Teach me, Oh! God, to read thy works aright,
Fill me with love for all things bright and free,
Grant me, through life to look, by day and night,
Through all Thy vast creations up to Thee!